


We'll Take It From Here

by mythicalquill



Category: Amnesty - Fandom, TAZ - Fandom, The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Nonbinary Character, Pre-Canon, Trans Duck Newton, Trans Male Character, it's not a focus or anything, just a little bit of kirby/keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 12:15:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19376524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythicalquill/pseuds/mythicalquill
Summary: A Hollis-centric piece reflecting on their time with the Hornets, life in Kepler, and belonging, with some trans!Duck for good measure.





	We'll Take It From Here

**Author's Note:**

> Just a reflection on what makes Hollis Hollis! I’ve loved them as a character ever since they were introduced (thank you Griffin McElroy for my life), and was inspired to do my first taz fic at roughly 2:00AM because I was having Feelings™. Hope you enjoy!

Hollis didn’t know Duck Newton well. Sure, they had run into him a few times in the forest, firstly while the Hornets were weaving between trees on their mountain bikes and Keith nearly bowled him over. Duck had brushed it off with a smile, somehow without a scratch on him. But the next time they’d met (later that very same day) the ranger had wasted no time making them snuff out their post-ride cigarettes. Hollis would not soon forget the lecture they’d received on fire safety. 

But they didn’t know him just from these run-ins—on reputation alone, Duck’s name had preceded him. There weren’t many trans role models for Hollis in Kepler, despite the unusually accepting nature of the West Virginian town. It was comforting to know that Duck, a man who had transitioned in a time where it must have been much harder to do so, seemed happy and was so well-liked in the community. 

Hollis… respected him, an honor that they didn’t bestow to just any authority figure. Cigarettes stayed unlit in the bounds of the forest, and any Hornet who screwed up would quickly learn their lesson. Hollis liked to think that, like Duck, they themself might be something of an inspiration to their younger counterparts: in navigating identity as well as in sweet stunts.

Because youth who didn’t conform to the expected genders and sexualities of society did seem to flock—swarm?—to their group, even back when it was just the Kepler Stunt Club. Their policies were clear: If you could skate, bike, ski, board—or were willing to learn—you were welcome there. Hollis made especially sure that these members, those who believed themselves outcasts, never felt alone. They were a family, forged through scrapes and bruises, long nights and early mornings. 

The Hornets weren’t always angels, obviously. Sometimes the group got a bit… rowdy, and squabbles would break out. Emotions would elevate, and the adrenaline from their activities could lead to some bruised knuckles and swollen black eyes. And then there were the bigger fall-outs, seldom particularly nasty—with the notable exception of one blonde snowboarder, who Hollis doubted they’d be seeing again soon. Not that they’d mind much if they did; that was mostly Keith’s beef. 

_Keith._ Despite his occasional temper, the boarder had been a good lieutenant—and friend—since they’d formed a bond early in school. Of the group, he was clearly the most loyal and most devoted to his craft, more so than Tim, Bevin, Lanky McGee, or any of the rest. Plus, his skills with a camera were unrivaled, and he’d been invaluable to the promotional videos they shot on occasion. They had known each other long enough that Hollis prided themself on being one of the few people who could see Keith’s kind heart beneath his layers of impulsiveness and tough-guy bravado. 

Keith was also the one who’d stepped up when the grist* had needed a nest to call home, pitching the Little Dipper. It was after the Kepler Stunt Crew had morphed into the more… illegitimate operation that was the Hornets that this bar and grill became their base of operations. They had been a couple times before, for pizza and beer after late night stunt shoots, and the lieutenant suggested they make it their official meeting place. 

It wasn’t the most reputable establishment, but it was out of the way, and served as a haven where the group could end their nights and plan their days. (Plus, get a good deal on buffalo wings.) The highlight of Hollis’s tiring days would often be pulling up to the Nest, immersing themself in raucous laughter and gleaming neon lights. 

It was times like these when Hollis felt that they truly belonged; among like-minded people, respected enough that they could give orders with a snap of their fingers and not worry about being challenged. It hadn’t always been this way for them—fitting in had been difficult since they were a kid. Not a boy, not a girl, not interested in “choosing.” They stayed steadfast and proud, no matter the animosity it got them. 

They couldn’t afford to medically transition yet, but found other ways to deal with dysphoria. Every morning when they donned their golden-yellow jacket, sunglasses, and styled their hair, it was with more confidence than the morning before. Standing out, while still feeling part of the group, unquestioned by those who mattered. And it certainly helped that everyone seemed to know their pronouns upon meeting them—most likely, word got around after a few scuffles with transphobic jerks.

Or maybe that acceptance was due to something else, came about because others had blazed the trail before them. Duck, of course (in more ways than one, if that was a duty of his in the forest), and a few older residents who had spoken out as well. This history made Hollis prouder to live in Kepler, feel more connected with the community. 

But they knew deep down that they didn’t have much else in common with their activist predecessors, especially the ranger. Duck was twice their age, had a steady career, and definitely owned a cat or two. From what Hollis figured, his daily life consisted of reading about trees and lecturing campers to put out their fires and pour out their beers. Nothing nearly as dangerous as the stunts and tricks Hollis pulled regularly. 

Hollis supposed Duck might’ve been different as a kid, more rebellious; it couldn’t have been easy to come out when he did. Nevertheless, it was hard to imagine that straight-laced Ranger Newton had been anything less than a goody-two-shoes when he was Hollis’s age; probably hadn’t even seen a skateboard or a cigarette. He definitely didn’t have a chaotic and strong group of friends to back him up, or a cool weapon like their rebar club to scare away the nasties. The image of Duck strolling through the Monongahela, threatening sickly trees to get better with a baseball bat, amused Hollis to no end. 

But the obvious differences didn’t matter—they felt a subtle connection to the man even by just sharing a hometown. 

Hollis was born in Kepler, and had stuck with the small town through thick and through thin. Even after their mom had lost her job at the Green Bank Telescope and moved up north to help their aging grandmother, they had stayed; scraping some money together from various odd jobs to get a place with a few friends. It was small and often crowded, but it wasn’t like they spent much time there anyway. 

Being an extreme sports enthusiast meant that their home could be everywhere, from the vibrant forests and icy mountain slopes to the great stretches of roads they traversed on their bike, or inside the walls of the Dipper. It was wherever they felt that adrenaline rush and the thrill of soaring through the air like a bird—or, rather, a hornet. Off ramps and rails, onto snow or concrete. The sting of the gravel on their knees, the wind whipping their face, only serving to make them feel more alive, and _vivid,_ somehow. Their home was in this feeling, and it was in the faces of their friends. 

And despite the time spent enjoying all the natural beauty the state gave them access to, their home was also in town. The Hornets were well known, though often looked down on as shady miscreants or rowdy bikers. Hollis knew this, but didn’t care in the slightest. Opinions like those had stopped bothering them long ago. 

And besides, they liked and were liked by most folks they knew there. The people of Kepler were generally kind; Leo Tarkesian would always make time to chat with Hollis when they came to pick up supplies, Eugene was always ready with (the same) story after the crew got off the ramps, Ned Chicane’s little business was pretty entertaining, and his assistant Kirby stopped by to watch their practices sometimes. (Hollis suspected he had a thing for Keith, who always happened to pull out his most ambitious tricks when the cryptid enthusiast dropped by.) Even the insufferable Muffy and Winthrop had some good comedic value; a favorite pastime of the Hornets was zipping past the pair as they clung together in terror on the slopes of Mount Kepler. And while, yes, Hollis rarely saw eye-to-eye with Zeke Owens, the sheriff had become less of a nuisance in the past few years. 

Despite everything, this town was their home, and those outside the Hornets were still their community. 

Hollis sometimes wondered if this was how Duck felt about the Monongahela. Did he care for the trees and animals he spent his days with the way Hollis did for the town and its inhabitants? This possibility shed light on why Duck acted as he did—safe-guarding, vigilant, so careful to monitor anything that could bring his forest harm. Hollis realized more and more that they understood those lectures and that protective disposition. The latter was something they shared, and with a passion. 

Hollis knew, without a doubt, that if someone lit a fire that had the possibility of igniting their town, their home, carelessly imperiling it through flames and smoke, there was _nothing_ they wouldn’t do to put it out.

**Author's Note:**

> *Grist is the name for a group of hornets! (Tried to make this a footnote, didn't work)
> 
> So, there you go! I’d be ecstatic if you left a comment letting me know what you think, or came to talk to me on tumblr, @sunshine-disaster. I didn’t really know what this was going to be when I started, but I really enjoyed writing it, fleshing out Hollis as I see them (although I tried to keep some things ambiguous), and exploring the reasons behind their motivations. Plus, I’ve been thinking a lot about my headcanons for trans!Duck, which might make their way into some writing of their own one day. 
> 
> I am very scared for the new taz ep tomorrow (final arc!!), so this was a good way to use that fear productively. If you read or shared this, thank you so much! I appreciate you!


End file.
